Monday, June 25, 2007

To the Exalted Mayor of Bethville

My Dearest Mayor of Bethville,

I must apologize for my most recent letter, the contents of which implied that I too am a brain-craving zombie. I assure you, the only thing I crave is a pastry that does not pose an immediate threat on my life. No, my dear mayor, I am most certainly safe from the unfortunate attack on Bethville by ravenous zombies. I must say I am a bit jealous of your situation. Roast chinchilla is heavenly with the right kind of chutney.

I must inform you that I have a mild condition, making me joke at very inappropriate and often dangerous times. It's haunted me since birth, more often in one-on-one conversation or public speeches. Even the slightest opportunity to slide some immature humor into a conversation and I'll take advantage of it. By slightest opportunity I mean short breaths, hiccups, small coughs, loss of eye contact, excessive blinking (6th grade was hell), an abrupt change in subject, shifting of weight, or the use of an adverb in a grammatically incorrect manner. Imagine someone introducing their "softly grandmother"...perfect opportunity.

My most recent slip was during our 6th Annual Benville Apple Bobbing and Carmen Miranda Enthusiast Festival. Three members of the Benville Chamber of Commerce were busily dunking their heads in the long porcelain tank filled with 18 inches of water and red delicious apples, when I very unthinkingly exclaimed "Hey, isn't that the old restroom urinal trough from the Benville public swimming pool?!", followed by much of my unshared laughter. After 20 minutes of sputtering, vomiting and shrieking in terror, the chamber of commerce members made it very clear that such a joke was most inappropriately timed.

And now....down to business.

I regret to inform you that your beloved butter churner, previously body-double #2, is now helplessly on his way to space. I know it may sound strange, one's journey to space, but a trip very rarely made by your normal, average, everyday butter churner is now underway. Allow me to elaborate.

When Mr. Damon arrived, we immediately locked him in the mayoral dungeon until we could think of a clever way for him to repay his treason to Benville. After staying up all night watching old gangster movies, the body-double staff suggested casting his feet in cement and throwing him in the ocean. We waited a day and half for the cement dry until we realized the nearest body of water was four hours away. So the only logical solution was to remove the cement, tie his feet to several weather balloons and allow him to drown in the depths of space instead. Quite a brilliant idea if I do say so myself. Saved us hours of drive time.

Back to your zombie predicatment, the Benville residents experienced a very similar situation a year ago during the annual Ben Stein Impersonation Contest and Marinated Game Hen Raffle. Since then, we put together an emergency instruction manual to rid the community of zombies and anyone bearing the slightest resemblance to Ben Stein.

Step #145 in the manual reads as follows: Use a sharp, blunt instrument to remove the head of targeted zombie/Ben Stein. For maximum efficiency and point-value use an axe, Scottish broadsword or chainsaw.

Fortunately for Bethville, the Benville Chainsaw Emporium and Warehouse is incredibly overstocked. Unfortunately for Bethville, the 21st Annual Pacifist Awareness and Anti-Chainsaw Usage Seminar was held just two nights ago in Tansalton and a majority of the Benville residents attended. They are still passionately opposed to the use of chainsaws.

However, I think I can help. I will gather the Benville Professional Golfing Team and Amateur Crochet Association members together for an emergency conference. After I tell them Ben Stein is lose in Bethville and is endangering its beloved mayor, they should be on the way to your rescue post-haste.

Please, my dear mayor, stay in your attack shelter until their arrival. I'm including a bottle of Zombiegone Ointment with this letter and sending it by carrier pigeon. That should provide you some slight protection and rations for another day.


Ever So Helpful and Challenged in the Ways of Well-Timed Humor,
The Mayor of Benville

To the Exalted Mayor of Bethville

My Dearest Mayor of Bethville,



The Hopelessly Lost Mayor of Benville

Thursday, June 7, 2007

To the Honorable Mayor of Benville

Dearest Mayor of Benville,

I am currently writing this letter from the safety of the titanium-lined attack shelter under the village of Bethville. Incidentally, the time locks engaged, and it seems I am trapped here for the duration of the zombie attack. Yes, you read correctly. We are experiencing a zombie attack here in usually-pleasant and glamorous Bethville.

It all started yesterday afternoon during the Bethville Dill Pickling and Boris Karloff Impersonating Showdown. One of the competing Boris Karloff impersonators took a wrong turn on the way to his dressing room and fell headfirst into a vat of pickling brine. There he remained until he was fished out many hours later by a very unlucky competition pickler. At first the Bethville residents found it amusing that he kept chasing them and screaming "BRAINS!" But as soon as he actually caught someone, their amusement turned to concern. Luckily, at the time, I was enjoying some quiet time in the mayoral lavatory and reading room when I heard the screams of concern. I quickly packed some rations and things to amuse me through the zombie attack and dashed to the mayoral escape pod. Which brings us to the present time. I am delivering this letter to you via my confidante and former mayoral butter churner, Matt Damon, as I felt he would be safe from attacks of this nature. I ask that you please send more things to amuse me until the attack ends, as I am almost finished with my current book of crossword puzzles.

That said, Mr. Mayor, I hope this letter finds you well. And I hope it catches you before you depart for the Bethville Petting Zoo and Acupunture Seminar, which was to take place this afternoon in Bethville Square. Unfortunately, I've been forced to cancel this event as the petting zoo animals are currently serving as my mayoral rations. I should be okay until the roasted chinchilla runs out, but if you have any ideas on how to destroy 1,500 zombies before that time, please let me know.


The Zombie-Besieged Mayor of Bethville